


What About Love?

by ChakwayAllTheWay



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s05e06 Timeless, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Holodeck Sex, Making Up, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-25 00:58:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16651252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChakwayAllTheWay/pseuds/ChakwayAllTheWay
Summary: To boost morale after the near-death experience of testing the slipstream drive, Tom invites the senior officers to a 20th century rock concert on the holodeck.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiaCooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/gifts).



> _This fic (my first, after years of lurking) was inspired by Heart's "What About Love" and U2's "Pride" and Joshua Tree album. It's utterly ridiculous, but I couldn't get it out of my head so there you have it._
> 
>  
> 
> _P.S. I'd like to dedicate this fic to the very talented Mia Cooper for sharing her gifts with us year after year._
> 
>  
> 
> _Amy_

She’d always enjoyed fresh flowers on her dinner table. The flickering candles and sensual music playing softly in the background, however, were new. 

But that wasn’t what surprised him most about that night. It was the words they uttered to each other, each one a blow to their skillfully engineered wall of self-restraint.

Appetite.  
Famished.  
Delicious.  
Dessert.  
Decision.  
Risk.

Actually, what surprised him most that night was that he managed to make it through the first course. Who needs vegetable biryani when you have Kathryn Janeway staring at you like you’re a piece of filet mignon?

Still, he tried to be the voice of reason.

_“If you showed this data to any Starfleet engineer, they’d think we’re out of our minds,” he stated. “We can find another way home. We’ve waited this long—"_

_“Long enough,” she cut in, eyes ablaze. “We’ve waited long enough. I know it’s a risk—probably our biggest one yet—but I’m willing to take it. Are you with me?”_

_“Always,” he replied._

How could he refuse?

Dessert ended up being the best meal of his life; the taste of her hungry mouth and soft, ivory skin a delectable mixture of savory and sweet. 

Later, as they lay sated together under a blanket of starlight, he tried not to think about whether her decision would last.


	2. Chapter 2

_U.S.S. Voyager_  
One week later

Tom Paris exited the turbolift and trudged toward the mess hall. He’d just finished a long, tense shift on the bridge, thus ending a strange and somber week aboard the _U.S.S. Voyager_.

The entire crew had taken the slipstream failure hard, but the disappointment was especially palpable for B’Elanna and Harry. Tom succeeded in cheering up B’Elanna by taking her to the batting cages on the holodeck. The half-Klingon’s disdain for the baseball bat, which she called a “puny weapon,” evaporated once she knocked out a few fly balls. They ended their date doing unmentionable things to each other on the pitcher’s mound.

The memory caused a satisfied smirk to grace Tom’s tired features.

Cheering up Harry, on the other hand, had proven more difficult. Despite Tom's best efforts, the normally affable ensign had spent the entire week brooding over his botched phase variance corrections.

After trying to reason with him, Tom joked, “Well, at least your corrections didn’t cause us to crash!”

Harry didn’t think it was funny.

_Back to the drawing board_ , Tom thought as he reached the doors to the mess hall, which swished open to reveal the very object of his troubled musings.

“Think of the Devil,” Tom mumbled.

Harry stared at his friend, confused bordering on annoyed.

“I thought it was speak,” he said.

“What?” Tom asked. 

“Speak of the—"

“Oh. Yeah, it is. Sorry, Har. Don’t mind me.”

They stood awkwardly facing each other for several seconds more before Tom offered, “You wanna join me and B’Elanna for some dinner?”

“No, I’m good. Just heading back to my quarters for a quiet night in,” Harry answered. “I’ll see you around.”

“OK,” Tom said as he watched the retreating form of his friend.

He walked into the galley and plunked down next to B’Elanna, letting out a big sigh as he settled into his chair.

“Long day?” the engineer asked with a both bemused and sympathetic smile.

“Long week,” he retorted.

“Tell me about it,” she commiserated. “You bump into Mr. Sunshine on his way out?”

“Yeah. He’s really struggling with the slipstream failure, isn’t he?” Tom stated.

“I’d say so,” B’Elanna replied. “Sam told me he turned down a game of Velocity with Megan Delaney.”

Tom let out a disbelieving whistle.

“I feel for him,” B’Elanna continued. “You know how much I was berating myself about the faulty drive system. Luckily, I had you to buck me up.”

Tom snorted. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” he asked.

“You know what I mean,” B’Elanna chided and took his hand in hers. “It really helped having someone to remind me that everything isn’t always my fault.”

Tom turned her palm over and brought it to his lips before rocking back suddenly in his chair.

“Wait, that's it! B’E, you’re a genius!” Tom exclaimed. “Harry just needs something to take his mind off of everything; something to remind him how much fun life can be, even out here in the Delta Quadrant.”

“Tom, I don't think Harry wants to go to the batting cages with you,” B’Elanna warned.

“No, not baseball. America’s other favorite 20th century pastime: Rock ‘n’ Roll,” he told her excitedly. “Replicate your best leather boots and jacket, babe, we’re going to a rock concert!”


	3. Chapter 3

Holodeck 1  
The next day

The Holodeck doors slid open to reveal the muted tones of the Starfleet Academy boxing gym. B’Elanna caught a whiff of what smelled like mold and body odor. The scent was surprisingly authentic for a place made out of photons and force fields.

 _Chakotay must be working himself into a lather_ , she thought as she approached the ring.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she spied her friend and commanding officer whaling on his holographic opponent, a slightly built Terrelian with misshapen facial ridges.

She stood next to the ring, her arms leaning into the ropes, and watched Chakotay lunge at the alien over and over again. Beads of sweet rolled down his usually handsome face, which was contorted in anger or pain, or perhaps both. Chakotay threw another fearsome hook only to stumble several paces to the right. The loss of balance made him a perfect target for the Terrelian, who landed an explosive jab squarely on Chakotay’s jaw. The force of the punch sent the former-Maquis tumbling to the mat.

He lay there stunned for several seconds before spitting out his mouth guard and sputtering, “Computer, delete character.”

The pugnacious Terrelian shimmered into oblivion. 

“Careful, old man. You’ll wind up with a concussion with moves like that,” B’Elanna chastised. Chakotay bolted up from the floor and locked eyes with the engineer.

“What are you doing here, B’Elanna?” he stated flatly as he massaged his tender, chiseled jaw.

“I could ask you the same question,” she replied. “I’ve been looking for you all day. I had to bribe Mike with replicator rations before he’d give up your hiding place.”

Chakotay ducked between the ropes and walked over to a bench in the corner. He wiped his drenched face with a towel and took a long slurp of water from his bottle.

B’Elanna pressed on, undeterred by Chakotay’s stony silence, “Tom mentioned at dinner last night that it’s been pretty tense on the bridge lately. You want to talk about it?”

“Do I look like I want to talk about it?” Chakotay bit out.

“No. You look like you’ve just had your ass handed to you by a Terrelian featherweight,” she deadpanned. “Come on, Chakotay. Tom says you and the captain are barely speaking to each other. If she blames you for the slipstream failure, that’s just ridiculous. We all knew the risks—”

“Yes, we knew the risks,” Chakotay growled and slammed his water bottle down on the bench, causing B’Elanna to flinch.

“OK…” she said quietly and sat down next to Chakotay on the bench. “So, what’s going on between the two of you?” 

Chakotay vaulted off the bench and started pacing along the side of the ring.

“Chakotay, whatever it is, it’s clearly got you worked up,” B’Elanna called to him. “It’ll help if you talk to someone.”

Finally, he returned to the bench and took a seat. He nervously scrubbed his face with his hands before blurting out, “I—she—we had sex, B’Elanna. We … made love.”

B’Elanna stared at him, openmouthed. 

“The night before the slipstream launch, she invited me to her quarters for dinner. We talked about Tom’s findings, and I told her that it was too risky; that we had waited this long to find a way home, we could surely find another. But she said we’d waited long enough, and … the way she looked at me, I could tell she wasn’t talking about the slipstream anymore. She was talking about us; saying that we’d waited long enough to be together. That it was our time,” he said, his words a bittersweet tidal wave of bliss and agony. “And I believed her.”

B’Elanna took some time to absorb the confession she’d just heard. 

“She thought it would work," she said. "That we’d be home now.” 

Chakotay nodded his head.

“But we’re still here, so she—”

“She’s pulled back,” Chakotay said.

B’Elanna hesitantly placed her hand on her friend’s.

“I’m sorry, Chakotay,” she whispered. “Maybe she just needs some time to come to her senses.”

Chakotay shook his head, despairingly. “I don’t know what she needs anymore.”

B’Elanna’s normally stoic Klingon heart ached for her friend. She was no master of the ways of love, but she understood the deep pain fostered by rejection. She squeezed his hand and stood up.

“I don’t know what the captain needs right now, either, but I know what you need: something to take your mind off of your troubles. Tom and I are taking Harry to a concert on Holodeck 2 in a couple of hours. Turns out Starfleet could use a distraction, too.”

Chakotay grimaced, “B’Elanna, no.”

“OK, suit yourself,” she replied. “Stay here getting your ass kicked by The Terrible Terrelian. Sure beats spending a night out with friends.”

B’Elanna smiled and made her way to the exit.

“What time?” Chakotay barked after her.

“1900 hours,” she replied. “And take a shower before you come. You reek like a wild targ.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chakotay’s quarters  
1 hour later

Chakotay stepped out of the shower and reached for his freshly replicated towel. He chose to indulge in a real shower after the beating his body had taken on the Holodeck. The piping hot water washed away the sweat and grime and soothed his aching muscles to the point that he felt human again. He couldn’t say the same for his heart, unfortunately.

B'Elanna was right. He needed a night off from pining over Kathryn Janeway. Music had always helped him during difficult times. A concert with friends sounded like the perfect escape.

He put on his bathrobe and replicated the outfit B’Elanna had programmed for him to wear. Running his hands over the tight, denim jeans and leather jacket, he thought, _Just what kind of concert are we going to?_

“What the hell,” he said out loud. “When in Rome, I suppose.”

Just then his door chimed.

“Enter,” Chakotay called, distractedly. 

Harry Kim walked in wearing similarly tight, leather pants and a flowy white shirt.

“Commander—" Harry balked. “I didn’t realize you were still getting dressed. I can come back another time.”

Chakotay stared at Harry’s attire and then down at his own. A slight smile graced his lips—the first in days.

“At ease, Harry,” he said, gesturing to his appearance. “This can’t be any more embarrassing than what you’re wearing.”

“True,” Harry admitted. “Did Tom replicate something for you too?”

“B’Elanna,” Chakotay replied.

“Lucky man. She has better taste when it comes to, well, anything really,” Harry said with just a hint of amusement.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Chakotay replied. “I’m sorry to hurry you, but I need to get dressed if I’m going to make it to the concert on time. What can I help you with, Ensign?”

“Right, sorry. I wanted to drop off this file for you. I found it embedded in the shuttle’s memory drive this morning,” Harry explained. “Looks like it got missed during the initial scans. I think your future self left a message for you, too.”

Speechless, Chakotay gaped at the tricorder in Harry’s hands. A deluge of questions swirled in his head.

After several moments, Harry placed the tricorder on Chakotay’s desk. “I’ll just leave it right here, sir. See you on the Holodeck,” he said before turning to leave.

“Harry,” Chakotay called after him. “Did the message help? Did it give you peace?”

Harry paused at the doors to Chakotay’s quarters.

“Peace is a strong word, Commander. I’d say it gave me perspective,” he answered and then left.

Chakotay watched the doors close and then walked over to the tricorder. He picked it up and held it briefly in his hands before setting in down again. He shook his head and strode purposefully into his bedroom.

As he quickly dressed, Chakotay was pleased to discover that, yes, B’Elanna did have better taste than Tom. He zipped up his boots and made a beeline for the exit, successfully resisting the gravitational pull of the device on his desk.

He made it two steps short of the door before twisting around and practically running back to his desk.

“Gods help me,” he uttered as he connected the tricorder to his communications monitor.


	5. Chapter 5

Chakotay walked down the corridor toward Holodeck 2, a new man. His gate had confidence and purpose again, and his obsidian eyes burned with renewed vigor.

B’Elanna and Harry stood together outside the holodeck chatting about the night to come. B’Elanna glanced at Chakotay as he approached and did a double take. Gone was the defeated Romeo of a few hours previous, and in his place stood a determined Casanova. 

The half-Klingon let her eyes linger on Chakotay’s attractive physique. The pants she’d selected for him hugged all the right places, and the button-down shirt underneath his leather jacket was open just enough to display some of his toned, tawny chest.

“That shower did you a world of good, Chakotay,” B’Elanna said approvingly.

“Yes, that and some sage words from a friend—or friends, really,” Chakotay replied.

B’Elanna and Harry both smiled at him knowingly.

“You’ve found peace, Commander?” Harry asked, causing B’Elanna to eye them both questioningly.

“Perspective, Ensign. Perspective,” he replied.

Chakotay and Harry’s conspiratorial chuckle was interrupted by a high-pitch, catcall whistle.

“You all sure do clean up nice,” Tom exclaimed as he joined them in front of the holodeck.

“Thomas Eugene Paris, what in the world are you wearing,” B’Elanna guffawed. 

“You like?” he taunted as he did a slow spin. The typically clean-cut pilot now sported ripped, acid-washed jeans, a dark blue button-up that proudly displayed his chest hair, and a very shiny leather jacket. To top it all off, his blond hair was teased and combed in a highly unusual fashion.

“Taking styling tips from Nelix now, I see,” Harry ribbed.

“Business in the front, party in the back, Har!” Tom crowed. “It’s called a mullet and it was all the rage in the 1980s.”

“The ’80s? I thought you were into the ’50s,” Chakotay said.

“Normally, yes. But I’ve been dabbling in the world of 1980s rock concerts,” Tom explained. “Trust me, you’ll like it. It’s like the ’50s on steroids.”

“OK…” Harry uttered.

“Shall we?” Tom said as he gestured toward the door. “The others should be inside.”

“Others?” B’Elanna asked.

“Yeah. I invited Seven and the Doc,” Tom told her, adding sotto voce as the holodeck doors slid open, “and the Captain.”

\-- 

The four officers entered the holodeck to find themselves on a crowded city street corner. All around them swarmed people dressed in similarly tight and leathery clothing. Peppered amongst the crowd stood police officers directing traffic and civilians alike.

Suddenly a hole opened up in the sea of bodies to reveal two familiar, albeit oddly dressed, individuals. The Doctor wore a getup similar to Harry’s, and Seven’s catsuit had been replaced by black, patchwork jeans and a tight, denim vest. As they turned to face the rest of a group, a third person turned as well.

In one dizzying moment, Chakotay felt the air catch in his lungs and the blood rush south to his groin.

“Kathryn,” he gasped.

Before him stood the Kathryn Janeway of his most erotic fantasies: She wore a black, off-the-shoulder sweater that tapered to the bottom of her ribcage to reveal several inches of creamy, white skin. Paired with that she wore a leather miniskirt and high-heeled ankle boots.

“Chakotay, what are you…” Kathryn uttered, equally breathless, before catching herself and schooling her features into that of the aloof Starfleet officer.

“Commander,” she acknowledged icily and then turned back to the scene on the holodeck.

The rest of the group stared at Chakotay and the Captain awkwardly before making small talk amongst themselves.

“Hi, Seven,” Harry greeted the drone. “I like your—er—vest.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kim. The Doctor replicated it for me,” Seven stated. “Of course, he failed to inform me that late 20th century females felt the need to display their—assets—so prominently.”

The Doctor cleared his throat sheepishly.

“I’m sure it just slipped his mind,” Harry assured.

As those three continued to chat, B’Elanna hastily pulled Tom to the side.

“What in the name of Kahless made you invite the Captain to this concert?” she seethed.

Tom shrugged and replied, “I figured she could use some time out of the captain’s uniform.”

“So you put her in that?!” B’Elanna exclaimed.

Tom glanced back at the Captain and grinned. “She’s a woman, B’E, not a robot. Frankly, I’m surprised she actually wore it.”

“Careful, Flyboy. Your crush is showing,” B’Elanna growled, and then added more softly. “Poor Chakotay. It’s like putting a banquet in front of a starving man and telling him not to feast.”

“B’E, what are you talking about?” Tom asked.

B’Elanna opened her mouth and then closed it again. Finally, she blurted, “Chakotay and the Captain—”

At that exact moment, the deep, whining sound of a bass guitar filled the air, followed by some tentative raps on the drums. 

Tom broke away from his fiery girlfriend to gather together his fellow officers.

“All right, everybody! The show is about to begin. Welcome to Los Angeles, California, circa 1986,” Tom declared. “We find ourselves at the corner of 7th and Main, the site of the music video for U2’s chart-topping single, ‘Where the Streets Have No Name.’”

He gestured to the building in front of them, on top of which stood four dark-clothed men. The longhaired lead singer lifted the microphone to his mouth and began to croon an alluring tune.

 _“I want to run, I want to hide_  
_I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside_  
_I wanna reach out and touch the flame_  
_Where the streets have no name…”_

A roar of contagious excitement filled the surrounding intersection. The group of officers smiled at each other and joined in the revelry.

“And it’s not a concert without adult beverages,” Tom added as he pulled bottles of beer from a nearby hiding place. He passed a round of drinks to each of his friends.

“To Rock ’n’ Roll, everyone!” he exclaimed and thrust out his bottle.

“To Rock ’n’ Roll!” came the more uncertain reply.


	6. Chapter 6

The holographic sun had set hours ago, and yet the band and its legion of fans were still going strong.

Harry, finally forgetting about phase variances, disappeared into the crowd with Seven, leaving behind a disgruntled Emergency Medical Hologram. Kathryn stayed by the Doctor’s side most of the evening, more as a means of avoiding Chakotay than for the company. The hologram’s longwinded interpretation of U2’s lyrics in relation to their conflicting Irish-Catholic and Anglican roots ensured they had a wide berth. 

Chakotay tagged along with Tom and B’Elanna until they ditched him to go make out under a streetlight, which inspired the big man to look for more beer. 

Despite Tom’s insistence that people didn’t sit at rock concerts, Kathryn’s aching feet drove her to find a place to rest. She settled on a metal bench away from the crowd. 

The night had not gone as expected. She’d been naïve to think that an evening on the holodeck with Tom and B’Elanna would not include Chakotay. Secretly, in the deepest corners of her heart, she hoped he would be here. Earlier, as she dressed in her quarters, Kathryn imagined the look on Chakotay’s face when he saw her in such risqué clothing. For a fleeting moment, she let herself imagine the feeling of his hands on her skin—his fingers questing under her sweater and up her ribcage to envelope her heaving breasts.

Sitting on the bench, lost in thought and memory, Kathryn felt her nipples harden. 

“Stand down, Captain,” she growled.

“Don’t you mean Commander?” a familiar voice asked, startling her out of her bittersweet fantasy.

Kathryn glared at Chakotay, who stood above her with a bottle of beer in his outstretched hand.

“It’s just a drink, Kathryn,” he said.

She felt the refusal come automatically to her lips, but his kind eyes and charming dimples made her falter.

Reluctantly, she accepted his offering. They sat together in silence, sipping their drinks and watching the revelers from afar. After a while, Kathryn could feel Chakotay’s eyes on her. Then his fingers, chilled by the beer, covered hers.

“Kathryn, please,” he implored.

His touch sent an electric shock through her already sensitive body. Breathlessly, Kathryn locked eyes with her former lover. 

She withdrew her hand and, with a choked sob, uttered, “Chakotay, I can’t—” 

Her broken plea was interrupted by a boisterous and thoroughly tuneless serenade: “In the naaaaame of looooove!” a very jolly and very drunk Harry Kim belted out to the heavens. “One night in the name of love!”

The ruddy-faced ensign stumbled up to the command team supported by Seven and Tom.

“Those aren’t the lyrics, buddy,” Tom told him with a bemused smile before registering the charged atmosphere and pained expressions on both the Captain and Commander’s faces.

Soon B’Elanna and the Doctor joined the group as well.

“Come along, Ensign,” the EMH said with a sigh. “Luckily, I had the foresight to replicate several hyposprays worth of intoxication antidote in preparation for the slipstream launch last week.”

A distracted Tom helped usher his friend toward the holodeck exit, leaving Kathryn and Chakotay behind on their bench.

After noticing Tom glance back several times, B’Elanna asked, “What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “But I have an idea. Can you help take Harry to sickbay?”

B’Elanna could see the gears turning in her boyfriend’s over-imaginative mind. As she switched places with the pilot, she warned, “Don’t make me regret this, Tom.”


	7. Chapter 7

Kathryn sat frozen on the bench as the rest of the senior officers left the holodeck. She hoped that Harry’s drunken singing had prevented the group from noticing her emotional outburst.

She took several deep breaths and then stood to leave.

“Is that all it was to you, Kathryn? One night in the name of love—or was it just lust?” Chakotay rasped. 

Kathryn spun around and stared him dead in the eye.

“How dare you,” she spat.

“How dare I what, Kathryn?” Chakotay fired back, his voice rising in volume and passion. “How dare I ask if you have feelings for me? Because it sure felt like you did the other night.”

“We are not having this conversation right now, and not here of all places,” she stated in her best command tone. Again, she turned to leave, but Chakotay grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to face him.

“Yes, we are,” he said determinedly, and then added more softly, “talk to me, Kathryn. Please.”

“I said no, Chakotay,” she replied, steel in her voice.

She jerked her hand out of his and stormed off toward the exit. But when she reached the spot where the holodeck doors should’ve appeared, nothing happen.

“Computer, open door,” she barked.

“Unable to comply,” the computer chirped.

“Computer, open door. Authorization code Janeway Alpha—”

Suddenly, the holographic setting shifted and Kathryn found herself standing on the rooftop of a building. From the looks of it, it was the same rooftop from which U2 had played their concert. But the band was gone; the only other person present was Chakotay.

“What are you doing, Chakotay?” she demanded.

“It wasn’t me,” he told her, hands raised in supplication.

Kathryn let out an exasperated sigh and began to look for an access panel. Yet, as she searched the rooftop, she couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of her surroundings. Hundreds of twinkling lights were strung overhead in a crisscross pattern, bathing everything in a golden hue. At the far side of the building stood a small platform stage with two empty stools, and adjacent to that a black cocktail table with two chairs. On the table sat a candle centerpiece, a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a folded note.

Kathryn crossed to the table and picked up the note. She was so engrossed in the missive that she barely noticed Chakotay move alongside her.

“He’s a dead man,” she muttered and threw the note on the table.

Kathryn was too furious to elaborate, so Chakotay picked it up and read.

_I know you’ll probably have my pips for this, Captain, but I think you and the Commander could use some time away from the crew to work out whatever’s bothering you._

_Tom_

_P.S. The doors will open again in one hour. In the meantime, listen to your Heart._

_Gods bless Tom Paris_ , Chakotay thought. _He’s certainly going to need it once those doors open again._

He watched a clearly distressed Kathryn Janeway pace along the rooftop before swallowing his pride and taking pity on her.

“Have you tried your combadge?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t bring it with me,” she responded, a sheepish look flitting across her face. “It didn’t go with the outfit.”

Chakotay burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny, Chakotay,” she insisted.

“Yes, it is,” he said with labored breath. “Because I didn’t wear mine either… for the same reason.”

The ridiculousness of their situation, and Chakotay’s continued laughter, zapped the tension out of Kathryn’s stance. She covered her face with her hands; for a moment, Chakotay feared she was crying. But he was relieved to see, when she dropped her hands, that Kathryn was laughing as well.

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?” Chakotay chuckled.

He immediately regretted his choice of words because, in a matter of seconds, Kathryn’s walls started to go back up.

“Kathryn, I didn’t mean—”

“I know, Chakotay,” she sighed. “I know.”

After a beat, Chakotay picked up the bottle of wine, poured some deep red liquid into each glass, and handed one to Kathryn.

“Sit down, Kathryn,” he told her gently. “Your feet must be killing you.”

She accepted the glass and the seat with gratitude. She took a long sip of wine, her eyes watching Chakotay over the rim of her glass.

 _Why is this so hard?_ her brain asked.

 _Because you love him_ , her heart answered.

“Chakotay—”

“Kathryn—”

Chakotay smiled and gestured for Kathryn to continue. 

“Ladies first,” he said.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Chakotay,” she said. “I hope you know that I didn’t mean to. I just thought… I thought things would be different now, that we could be different. But we can’t, and I’m so very sorry.”

Chakotay listened to her heartfelt words before responding. 

“Why can’t we be different?” he asked.

“You know why,” she stated.

“Protocol.” He spat the word out like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yes, protocol,” she said, raising her delicate hand to her face. “But it’s more than that, Chakotay.”

His soulful eyes encouraged her to continue.

“I don’t know if I can… be with you, Chakotay. Not because I don’t want to, but because… I’m afraid there’s not enough of me left for you. Out here, there’s barely enough left for me.”

She wiped what looked like a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry, I’m not making any sense—”

“Stop,” Chakotay said. “I understand, Kathryn—more than you think. And I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to make the journey harder for you. I told you once that your needs would come first, and if space is what you need then I’ll give it to you because… because I...”

As he spoke, strains of music filled the air. On the stage before them now sat two women, one dark haired and one light, playing acoustic guitars. The melody had an entrancing quality that drew both Chakotay and Kathryn in, despite the importance of their conversation.

The woman with dark, curly hair began to sing:

 _I've been lonely_  


_I've been waiting for you_  


_I'm pretending and that's all I can do_  


_The love I'm sending_  


_Ain't making it through to your heart_  


_You've been hiding, never letting it show_  


_Always trying to keep it under control_  


_You got it down and you're well_  


_On the way to the top_  


_But there's something that you forgot_  


_What about love_  


_Don't you want someone to care about you_  


_What about love_  


_Don't let it slip away_  


_What about love_  


_I only want to share it with you_  


_You might need it someday_  


_I can't tell you what you're feeling inside_  


_And I can't sell you what you don't want to buy_  


_Something's missing and you got to_  


_Look back on your life_  


_You know something here just ain't right_  


_What about love_  


_Don't you want someone to care about you_  


_What about love_  


_Don't let it slip away_  


_What about love_  


_I only want to share it with you_  


_What about love_  


_Don't you want someone to care about you_  


_What about love_  


_Don't let it slip away_  


_What about love_  


_I only want to share it with you_  


When the song stopped, it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and blasted into space. Chakotay turned to see tears streaming down Kathryn’s face. Without any hesitation, he was out of his chair and kneeling at her side.

“Kathryn,” he whispered, wiping the teardrops from her cheeks. “Don’t cry, my love.”

“Oh, Chakotay,” she gasped before taking his face in her hands and kissing him deeply.

Chakotay rocked back slightly, due in equal parts to shock and the force of her kiss. Kathryn dug her nails into his leather jacket to hold him close, the thought of losing him making her kiss even more frenzied.

Finally, they broke for air. They lingered there, foreheads touching and breath mingling.

“Kathryn,” Chakotay managed. “What do you want?”

“I want you to love me,” she said. When he didn’t respond, she continued, “The song is right, Chakotay. Something is missing in my life, or at least—someone. I love you, Chakotay, and I don’t want to let you slip way."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the sexy times commence!

Chakotay’s face blossomed into the brightest, sweetest smile Kathryn had ever seen. That she was the cause of such joy made her heart swell to near bursting.

“I love you, too, Kathryn,” he said. “I was trying to tell you before, but you beat me to it.”

Chakotay, his eyes like smoldering coals, leaned in and kissed her once more. This time it was a slow and sensuous kiss, filled with ardor and tenderness. His skillful lips then made their way from the corner of her mouth, along her jawline, to her ear.

“Let me show you how much I love you,” he whispered, causing a flare of pleasure to rush down her spine and settle in her pelvis.

“Yes,” she breathed. 

Slowly, he rose to his feet and removed his jacket, draping it over one of the chairs.

“Computer,” he called, “delete characters.”

The singers immediately disappeared.

Suddenly, he grabbed Kathryn firmly by the hips and lifted her up onto the cocktail table. The forceful movement sent the candle, wine bottle, and goblets crashing to the floor, producing a cacophony of sizzling liquid and shattering glass.

Kathryn let out an uncharacteristically girlish giggle.

“Kathryn Janeway,” Chakotay said with a surprised laugh. “Did you just giggle?”

Kathryn straightened her back and composed her features.

“Janeways do not giggle,” she said in mock seriousness before dissolving into more laughter.

“It’s good to hear you laugh, my love,” he told her affectionately.

With the fingers of his right hand, he started kneading her hip.

“Do you realize what you do to me, Kathryn?” he asked, his voice deepening. “I’ve been watching you all night, imagining what it’d be like to peel these clothes off of you.”

As he spoke, Chakotay pushed Kathryn’s skirt up and parted her thighs, causing her laughter to turn into a sigh of arousal. He massaged her thighs gently for several seconds, and then ran his hands down her legs to her boots.

“Let’s start with these, shall we?” he grinned.

Kathryn leaned back on the table and raised each of her legs, one at a time, so Chakotay could unzip her boots. After he finished removing them, he resumed his position between her legs and planted another passionate kiss on her lips. Ever the efficient multi-tasker, he simultaneously snaked his fingers under her skirt, grasped the waistbands of her fishnet stockings and panties, and pulled them off. 

Once freed from her lower garments, Kathryn wrapped her legs around Chakotay and drew him close.

“Your turn,” she said, her crooked smile taking on a sultry air.

She reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt, bowing her head to kiss each inch of skin as it was revealed. The garment soon joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Kathryn pushed a shirtless Chakotay back gently.

“I want to see you,” she told him.

Her eyes feasted on his glorious chest; his broad shoulders and toned muscles under beautiful, honeyed skin. She placed a delicate kiss atop his heart.

“My Angry Warrior,” she murmured and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’m yours, Kathryn,” Chakotay replied, running his strong hands up and down her back.

Soon, his hands shifted to her waist. His fingers slipped under the hem of her sweater and up her ribs, just as they had not long ago in her imagination. The realization of fantasy becoming reality sent a tremor of desire through Kathryn’s body. Swiftly, she raised her sweater over her head and tossed it on the ground, followed by her bra. Next she shimmied out of her leather skirt and then pushed herself back up onto the table.

Chakotay stepped forward to cup each of her breasts in his hands, savoring their texture and weight, and then stroked her nipples taut with his thumbs. Purposefully, he eased Kathryn down on the table and took one of her nipples in his mouth. As he circled it with his tongue, his fingers reached down to graze her dripping mound.

Together, they moaned in pleasure.

Chakotay switched nipples and inserted two fingers into her core. He worked his digits in and out and then curled them forward to rub against her wall. 

“Please, Chakotay,” Kathryn panted. “I need you—now.”

He stood back to look at her, her chest heaving and hair fanned out on the table, and then undid his jeans.

“No underwear,” she observed as the denim hit the floor.

“Apparently, it was all the rage in the 1980s,” he told her. “They called it ‘going commando.’”

“Aiming for authenticity, Commander?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Always,” he replied.

Once more he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to the edge of the table. Together they lifted one of her legs and placed it over his shoulder. Slowly he guided his shaft into her. After three pushes, he slid home.

“Oh, God,” she gasped. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he whispered in her ear, giving her body time to adjust. Again, Chakotay covered Kathryn’s mouth with his and started to pump in and out of her. With each thrust, the small table shook under her, but still she urged him on.

“Faster, Chakotay," she whimpered in delight. "Please.” 

“Aye, Captain,” he said through gritted teeth and grasped the sides of the table with his hands.

Kathryn’s responding chuckle soon gave way to a throaty moan as he pounded into her more forcefully. Afraid he wouldn’t last much longer, Chakotay slipped his fingers between them to brush Kathryn’s clit. The added friction sent her exploding over the edge with a high-pitched scream. Chakotay followed seconds later with his own rich baritone.

They lay together, spent, on the flimsy table, Kathryn running her hands along Chakotay’s back. Chakotay started to push himself up when they both heard the familiar whir of the holodeck doors opening.

“Well, I hope you two were able to work out whatever’s going on between—” a cheerful Tom Paris called out before stopping dead in his tracks.

He gaped at his utterly mortified, stark-naked superiors, who stood frozen before him in their post-coital position.

Tom snapped his mouth shut and spun around so his back faced them.

Tapping his combadge, he said, “Paris to transporter room one. Lock on to the Captain and Commander’s life signs and beam them directly to the Captain’s quarters.”

“Aye, lieutenant,” came the speedy reply, and Chakotay and Kathryn disappeared in a shimmer of blue.

Tom smiled and shook his head.

“I guess I was right,” he mused to the empty rooftop. “They just needed a little Heart.”

Then, more loudly, he said, “Computer, end program,” and exited the holodeck.


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue  
Sandrine’s  
1 week later

Chakotay strode through the doors of Sandrine’s. Not finding Kathryn’s signature auburn bob, he ambled to the bar. He sat down next to Harry and accepted a pint of cider from the flirtatious, blonde proprietress.

“Good to see you, Harry,” Chakotay said as he settled in. 

“Same to you, Commander,” Harry replied, lifting his beer in acknowledgment. “I see you left the leather at home, too.”

Chakotay grinned his affirmation from around the rim of his glass.

“Tom must’ve decided we had enough excitement for one week at the U2 concert,” Harry continued, his cheeks coloring slightly. “Some of us more than others…”

Chakotay inhaled sharply, drawing some bubbly liquid into his windpipe and triggering a coughing fit. 

“Are you all right, Commander?” a panicked Harry asked. 

The earnest ensign rose from his barstool to help, but Chakotay waved him off. 

“I’m fine, Harry,” Chakotay sputtered. “Just went down the wrong pipe.” 

Just then, a glass of water appeared in front of him. Chakotay looked up to see the Doctor grimacing at him. Chakotay took the beverage and sipped gratefully.

“The correct medical term for what you just experienced, Commander, is aspiration, which happens when a foreign material—food, drink, stomach acid, or fumes—enters one’s trachea instead of the intended esophagus,” the acerbic EHM droned. “Normally, a well-coordinated muscle interaction in your lower throat propels food into your esophagus and protects your airways.”

As the Doctor was lecturing them, Chakotay saw Kathryn Janeway walk into the bar and scan the room. When her eyes landed on him, they brightened significantly. Her crooked grin of pleasure elicited an equally content, dimpled smile from him.

“It’s an automatic process, but sometimes something slips through the wrong way, especially when you’re distracted,” the Doctor blathered.

“What?” Chakotay mumbled as he watched Kathryn make her way to the bar.

“Hello, gentlemen,” she warmly greeted them. “What’s an automatic process?”

The EMH opened his mouth to explain, but Chakotay cut him off.

“Can I order you a drink, Captain?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Sure. Whiskey, neat,” she said.

The bald man huffed indignantly, but Chakotay placed an assuring hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you for the water, Doctor,” he told him. “What are you drinking?”

The hologram smiled smugly. “The '27 Côte du Rhône. Quite a remarkable vintage, if I do say so myself. Even if it is made of photons.”

Chakotay raised his hand to flag down the barkeep.

“How about you, Harry?” he added.

“No thanks, Commander. I’m sticking to one drink this time,” Harry told him.

As they waited for their beverages, Tom Paris sauntered up to the bar.

“Captain! I’ve been waiting for you to arrive,” he exclaimed. “Fancy another go with my stick?”

Harry blanched, the Doctor rolled his eyes, and Chakotay just smirked. Kathryn discreetly slipped her hand into Chakotay’s and gave it a squeeze.

“Give him hell,” he told her quietly. “I’ll bring you your drink when it’s ready.”

She smiled and then turned to Tom.

“You’re on, Mr. Paris,” she drawled. As the pair walked away, Chakotay swore he heard her add, “Of course, we both know I prefer using a different stick.”

 _That saucy minx_ , Chakotay mused inwardly.

The rest of the drinks arrived. The Doctor soon wandered off, wine glass in hand, leaving Harry and Chakotay alone at the bar once more. Chakotay rose to take Kathryn her whiskey, but Harry clearing his throat stopped him.

“Uh, Commander, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Harry started.

“What is it, Harry?” Chakotay encouraged.

“Your message from... yourself. What did he say? Did he tell you how to fix the slipstream?” Harry asked hopefully.

“No, it wasn’t about the slipstream,” Chakotay told him gently. 

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. As he did, Chakotay looked at Kathryn, who was in the process of taking her next shot at the pool table. She was staring intently at the cue ball, lining it up with her ball and the corner pocket. As if she could sense Chakotay’s eyes on her, Kathryn looked up and beamed at him. 

Harry, meanwhile, followed Chakotay’s gaze. He was shocked to see his commanding officer, Kathryn Janeway, staring back at the former-Maquis, her eyes alight with love and desire. For the first time in Voyager’s journey, Harry saw his Captain for what she truly was: a flesh-and-blood woman with hopes, fears, and dreams—just like everyone else.

Chakotay shook himself out of his trance to find Harry staring at him, the dawn of understanding written clearly on his face.

“He said, ‘Life without Kathryn Janeway is no life at all,’” Chakotay uttered. “And he told me to stop wasting my time and to tell her how I feel because a life without love isn’t worth living.’”

The two men were silent for several beats before Chakotay said, “Excuse me, Ensign. I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

He crossed the room and handed Kathryn her drink.

Raising his pint glass, he toasted her: “To love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, again, to Mia Cooper for inspiring me and to those of you who came along for the ride. Also, to the Cleveland Health Clinic website for giving me a very thorough definition of aspiration.


End file.
